“As I’m getting older, chip up on my shoulder, rolling through life to roll over and die.”

Mac Demarco’s first line on the title track (and my #2 Top Song of 2014) of his album Salad Days perpetuates the strange dichotomy between Demarco’s public persona and his writing as a singer/songwriter.

One one side, there's his public persona - goofy, humorous, playful, idiotic, likable, and crude (instead of a band prayer/pep talk, I envision Demarco and his buddies playing the “Penis” game prior to stepping on stage). There's his ridiculously and I presume intentionally stupid documentary, Pepperoni Playboy, that has amassed over 500,000 views. His music videos are beyond comprehensible. His live shows are messy and completely enjoyable. I saw Demarco at The Great American Music Hall in SF, and Demarco broke his strings on three separate occasions, once asking his bassist to do a cover of Coldplay while he restrung his guitar. “Let Her Go” was played completely out of time, and Demarco laughingly stated so after they got through it. Demarco and Co. were in the middle of one song, and a fan jumped on stage, put his arms around the bassist and took a selfie. The bassist smiled happily for the camera. The show was more like a circus act, and I loved it. Demarco’s crazy persona was in full force.

Then there’s the other side. The side that could make an album like Salad Days and write so many incredible songs, so many tracks different from each other yet sliding together seamlessly. It’s a pretty serious album albeit with Demarco’s trademark jangling (possibly out of tune?) guitar, subdued yet catchy bass lines, and his lackadaisical delivery. Digging deeper though (and that seems to be the only way to try to understand this guy), the album is a reflection of love, growing up, sadness, celebrity, and I think, an acknowledgement of his abilities as a songwriter. “Let Her Go” is the catchiest of them all, and Demarco states what should be the golden standard for relationships: “Tell her that you love her if you really love her. But if your heart just ain’t sure, let her know.”

“Passing Out Pieces” should be the soundtrack to a video montage of someone coming of age. I can picture the slow motion videos, pictures of road trips, go-karts, friends laughing, and throwing the mortarboard off a cliff. Sure enough, the song's pretty much about growing older! “Watching my life passing right in front of my eyes. Hell of a story, or is it boring? Can’t claim to care. Never been reluctant to share passing out pieces of me. Don’t you know nothing comes free?” I take this as a bit of a dig at modern culture taking everything to be newsworthy when Demarco ponders if his story is really all that interesting. Although Demarco qualifies this by saying he’s guilty himself (ahem, Pepperoni Playboy), he seems to understand there's been a price to pay.

Then there's “Chamber of Relection,” Demarco’s most serious track - a song with sounds, ideas, and instruments Demarco had yet to explore. With synthy keyboards, flatlining organs, a plodding beat, and Demarco's tone of despair echoing throughout, it creates one of Demarco’s best tunes. “No use looking out, it’s within that brings that lonely feeling. Understand that when you leave here, you’ll be clear among the better men. Alone again. Alone again.” Maybe it’s Demarco trying to come to terms with his talent, knowing he may need to leave his comforts, his cronies, the out of time “Let Her Go,” and admit that’s he a pretty brilliant musician who probably needs to surround himself with better musicians. Or maybe it's about a destructive relationship. Maybe it's about suicide. Whatever it is, it's dark and provides a real introspection to the singer/songwriter contrary to Demarco's goofy public persona.

For one song during that crazy night at Great American Music Hall, the band members disappeared and Demarco stood alone with his electric guitar. The lights dimmed. The audience began to hush. Demarco started playing “Let My Baby Stay.” The audience initially was waiting for something silly to happen but then realized the vulnerability of the moment as Demarco pleaded, “Please don’t take my love away. Let my baby stay.” He then started hitting a falsetto I had no idea he was capable of. The song ended and the crowd erupted in appreciation. Demarco smiled his gap toothed grin, the band came back out, and then they did a Limp Bizkit cover.